The Married Girls

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘You didn’t see them!’ Nancy said pointedly.

  ‘Nor did you,’ snapped Caroline. ‘You’re just a vulgar gossip. It’s you who should be ashamed of yourself, spreading rumours like this. How would you like your name dragged in the mud?’

  ‘I wouldn’t do anything like that,’ said Nancy self-righteously.

  ‘No,’ said Caroline acidly. ‘I doubt if you’d get the chance.’ And with that she turned on her heel and swept out of the post office, her letters still in her hand.

  Bother, she thought ruefully, now I’ll have to get Avril to go in and buy me some stamps.

  When she told her sister about her confrontation with Nancy, Avril laughed. ‘Well done you,’ she said. ‘But I’m afraid the rumours are still going round and people are saying there’s no smoke without fire. Poor Charlotte, several people have cut her dead. David noticed it at church on Sunday, people turning away. He made a point of greeting her very publicly after the service, but I heard Sally Prynne say, “Well, he’s got to, ain’t he? He’s the vicar!”’

  Poor Charlotte indeed! Caroline had thought. And now, here was a note from the troublemaker himself, Harry Black, asking her to send on a letter to Charlotte and threatening to come back to Wynsdown if she didn’t.

  It was clear from the fact that he’d sent her the letter addressed to Livingston House, that Harry didn’t know where she herself was.

  He probably doesn’t know we live in the same village now, Caroline thought. I can simply take Charlotte the letter and we can talk about what she wants to do about it.

  Her mind made up, that morning she set out for Blackdown House. She found Charlotte feeding Edie, and Caroline happily took over the bottle while Charlotte made coffee for them both. Johnny was playing with some soldiers on the kitchen floor.

  ‘The ones in red are the goodies, Auntie Caro,’ he explained. ‘The blue ones are the baddies.’ He swept a hand across the line of blue soldiers and they all fell over. ‘The goodies have won!’ he shouted in triumph and began to set them up again for a second battle.

  Once Edie was settled in her pram for her morning nap, Charlotte and Caroline sat down with their coffee.

  ‘This is nice,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’m glad you came. I haven’t been out much the last week or so.’

  ‘No, well I heard you’d been having a difficult time,’ Caroline said.

  Charlotte looked at her sharply. ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Charlotte, you know there are rumours about you and Harry going round the village.’

  ‘Oh, those.’ Charlotte forced a half-hearted laugh. ‘We haven’t been paying any attention to them. Just stupid, they are.’

  ‘What does Billy say?’

  ‘Same as me,’ replied Charlotte. ‘We pay them no mind. Harry was here, he came to the bonfire party and said hallo. We had a hug, that’s all there was to it.’

  ‘I’m sure it was,’ smiled Caroline. ‘And I’m sure it’ll all die down very soon. Nancy’ll find something else to gossip about.’

  ‘Oh, her!’ Charlotte dismissed the postwoman with a wave of her hand. ‘My poor mother-in-law had a run-in with her yesterday. Mrs Shepherd gave her a piece of her mind, I can tell you, told her she was a spiteful troublemaker.’

  ‘She’s right, and I told her the same,’ Caroline said.

  ‘Let’s talk about something else,’ Charlotte said. ‘How’s Henry? Enjoying married life?’

  ‘I hope so,’ laughed Caroline. ‘He’s fine and busy. The waiting room was full this morning... just the way he likes it!’ She was suddenly serious and said, ‘Charlotte, I’m sorry, but we have to go back to Harry for a minute. This came in the post today.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out the letter, still in its outer envelope.

  Charlotte took it and looking at it, said, ‘Who’s writing to you at Livingston House?’

  ‘Open it,’ Caroline said.

  Charlotte pulled out the inner envelope and the paper wrapped round it and read what Harry had written. She looked up to find Caroline watching her face.

  ‘I didn’t know whether to give it to you or not,’ Caroline said. ‘But I know you were angry with me last time, so I’m not interfering now. The main thing that struck me was his threat to come back and see you again. With the rumours circulating... well, I didn’t think it would be a good idea at all.’

  ‘No,’ whispered Charlotte. ‘No, he mustn’t do that.’

  ‘Why don’t I play with Johnny for a while and you can go and read what he says to you, in peace?’

  Charlotte nodded wordlessly and went upstairs to her bedroom; then feeling that she shouldn’t read a letter from Harry in the bedroom she shared with Billy, she went into the bathroom, locked the door and sat down on the closed lavatory seat. For a long moment she held the unopened envelope. Perhaps it would be best simply to destroy it, unread. If she did that Harry would be cut out of her life for ever... except that he might not be. He might come to Wynsdown again as he threatened and cause yet more trouble. She had convinced Billy that there was nothing between her and Harry except a deep and abiding friendship, born of shared troubles, at least she thought she had, but would this conviction survive another visit from Harry? Billy had been as robust in his defence of her reputation in the village as his mother and Caroline had been, but how would the scandalmongers react if Harry put in another appearance?

  At least I should read what he’s written, she thought. I owe him that.

  She knew Billy would say she didn’t owe Harry anything, but she also knew Billy would never quite understand the bond that existed between them.

  She slipped her finger under the flap, tore the envelope open and extracted Harry’s letter.

  Dear Lisa,

  I’m back in London now, but for reasons you know why I couldn’t come round your house and say goodbye. I don’t even know which your house is, so I’m sending this to Miss Morrison so she can send it on to you. Your Billy won’t worry about a letter coming from her. I shall be here for the next few months and after that I’m going back to Australia.

  I wanted to take you with me, but I can see that ain’t going to happen. You got your family here now. Just write to me at this address to tell me the Morrison woman sent it on and I’ll stay away. But if you ever need me, Lisa, write to me here. I’ll get the letter in the end, even if I’ve gone back to Sydney. Address it to Victor Merritt, that’s my new name, but as you’ll always be Lisa to me, I’ll always be your Harry.

  Charlotte read and reread the letter. The address at the top was a pub, the Jolly Sailor in Shoemaker Lane, wherever that was. Charlotte had no idea, but here was the chance, if she wanted it, to maintain a thin thread of contact with Harry.

  After a while she put the letter back into its envelope. She had several options. She could ignore it and risk Harry reappearing in Wynsdown. She could send an answer to him at the Jolly Sailor and that would be the end of it. Perhaps that’s what she should do. Or she could tell Billy, show him the letter and let him read her reply; that thought made her feel sick with apprehension. What should she do for the best?

  I’ll have to think about it. She felt the panic rising up inside her. And I can’t think about it now.

  In the meantime she needed to keep Harry’s letter somewhere safe, somewhere Billy wouldn’t come across it by mistake. She went back downstairs, but before joining Caroline and Johnny in the kitchen, she went into the living room and slipped the envelope in among the music stored in her piano stool.

  Back in the kitchen, Caroline and Johnny were sitting on the floor with the soldiers again lined up for battle.

  ‘Auntie Caro’s the baddies,’ announced Johnny as his mother came in, and began marching his men forward, knocking over those in blue as he went. ‘I winned,’ he cried in delight as the last blue soldier fell.

  ‘So you did,’ laughed Caroline, getting up from the floor. ‘Again!’

  She didn’t ask Charlotte what was in Harry’s letter, simply raised her eyebr
ows in silent query.

  ‘Just saying goodbye,’ Charlotte said. ‘Off back to Sydney.’

  Caroline nodded. ‘That’s good,’ was all she said.

  Later that afternoon, Charlotte walked down into the village to visit Clare.

  ‘I wondered if you’d have Johnny for me for half an hour,’ she said when Clare opened the door. ‘I just want to go and tidy Miss Edie’s grave.’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ Clare stood aside for Johnny to come in and Charlotte followed him, carrying Edie.

  ‘I’ve brought some paper and crayons,’ she said, taking them out of her bag. ‘Johnny’ll be quite happy doing some drawing while I’ve gone. I’ll take Edie with me in the pram. She’s wide awake just now.’

  Leaving Johnny happily established at the table with his drawing, Charlotte put Edie back in the pram.

  ‘I’ll have the kettle on for a cuppa when you come back,’ Clare promised as she closed the door. Charlotte went back up the lane to the churchyard and pushed the pram across the grey winter grass, past the newly erected headstone for Peter Bellinger, to the yew tree in the corner that shaded Miss Edie’s grave.

  Tears filled her eyes as she stood looking down at the headstone. ‘I don’t know what to do, Miss Edie,’ she whispered. ‘People in the village seem to think I’ve been unfaithful to Billy. I haven’t! I wouldn’t! Billy’s the world to me. Billy and the children.’ She dashed a tear from her cheek. ‘But Harry’s special, too. He hugged me and I hugged him back. Is that so wrong? It’s tearing me apart.’ But she knew in her heart that what was tearing her apart most of all was the knowledge that when Harry had kissed her, just for a fraction of a second, she’d responded. She knew it, but could hardly admit it, even to herself. She didn’t want Harry as a husband... or as a lover. She’d pushed him away, but he’d known and she’d known, that her response had been there.

  ‘He’s written to me,’ she went on. ‘And if I don’t answer his letter, he’s threatened to come here again. I can’t let that happen; he mustn’t do that! But if I write back to him and Billy ever finds out, it’ll break his heart. I don’t know what to do.’ Her tears were flowing freely now, and she picked up Edie, holding her close, feeling the comfort of her warm little body in her arms.

  Gradually her tears dried and she put Edie back into the pram. Taking out her handkerchief she blew her nose. She couldn’t leave Johnny with Clare for too long, Clare had Agnes to think about. As she turned to retrace her steps to the lane, she saw Marjorie Bellinger standing at her husband’s grave. Marjorie looked up as Charlotte approached and, seeing her tear-streaked face, put out a hand to her.

  ‘Are you all right, Charlotte?’

  ‘Yes.’ Charlotte managed to conjure up a smile. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

  ‘It never gets any easier, does it?’ She gestured towards Peter’s grave.

  ‘I’ll be fine in a minute,’ Charlotte assured her. ‘Just hits me sometimes, specially when I feel I need her advice.’

  ‘Anything I can do?’ Marjorie asked softly. ‘I know it’s been difficult for you this last week or so.’

  Charlotte didn’t pretend not to know what Marjorie was talking about. She shrugged and said, ‘Oh, I suppose it’ll all blow over in the end.’

  ‘Bring the children for tea one afternoon,’ Marjorie suggested. ‘I’m rattling around in the manor and would love to have some young company.’

  ‘Thank you, that would be nice.’ Charlotte sounded a little doubtful.

  ‘No, I mean it, Charlotte. Come tomorrow. I’ll get Mrs Darby to make a cake.’

  Recognising the appeal in Marjorie Bellinger’s invitation, Charlotte smiled. ‘That sounds lovely,’ she said. ‘We’ll come when Johnny wakes up from his afternoon nap.’

  *

  A night’s sleeplessness had finally decided Charlotte on her course of action. She would write back to Harry and tell him she’d had his letter. She’d say goodbye and wish him well in his new life in Australia. A short letter, breaking the thread. Then, she’d put the whole incident behind her.

  As soon as Billy had left for Charing Farm, she wrote her letter.

  Blackdown House

  Dear Harry,

  I got your letter. I’m sorry we didn’t get to say a proper goodbye, too.

  You have to believe that I’m very happy here with Billy and my children and I wouldn’t change my life for any other.

  I hope you’ll be happy living in Australia and that you find someone there who’ll make you as happy as Billy makes me.

  Though we’ll never meet again, I’ll never forget you.

  Lisa

  She read it through several times before she put it into an envelope and addressed it, as instructed, to Victor Merritt at the Jolly Sailor. Picking up another letter that she’d written to Naomi the previous day, she put both in her bag, ready to post. She needed stamps and so, on her way to have tea with Marjorie at the manor, she took her courage in both hands and went into the post office.

  ‘Writing to someone special, are you?’ asked Nancy Bright with a coy smile.

  Charlotte faced her with a steady look and then answered, ‘Yes, to my Aunt Naomi.’ She held up the letter addressed to Naomi and Dan. ‘Would you like to read it, Miss Bright?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ snapped Nancy, looking affronted. ‘I don’t read other people’s letters.’

  ‘No?’ replied Charlotte. ‘And there was I thinking you take great interest in other people’s business.’

  ‘Really! How dare you?’ spluttered Nancy.

  ‘Oh dear!’ cried Charlotte, her hand to her mouth. ‘I must have got that wrong. I must make sure I don’t pass it on to anyone else!’

  She picked up the stamps. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I must fly, we’re on our way to have tea with Mrs Bellinger. So kind of her to invite us, don’t you think? Come along, Johnny, there’s a good boy.’ And with that Charlotte stalked out of the post office, leaving a scarlet-faced Nancy Bright, for once at a loss for words. Once outside, she stuck a stamp on each of her letters and dropped them into the pillar box, before crossing the green and taking the lane towards the manor.

  19

  When Felix had arrived back from his visit to Wynsdown, late that Sunday evening, Daphne had already gone to bed and he found the flat in darkness. He switched on the hall light and went through to the living room where he poured himself a stiff whisky and dropped into an armchair. One way and another it had been a long weekend. He and his mother had spent several hours discussing the possibilities, and he’d been over to see Richard Deelish at Newland Farm. He, like John Shepherd, was still interested in buying his farm outright, but he, too, expressed doubts about when he might be able to raise the money. Money everywhere was tight, and though he’d have the farm to put up as collateral for a mortgage, he was hesitating. If he did nothing, he would still have a farm to work and a living to make. If he bought the farm and it failed, he would lose everything.

  Felix could understand his indecision. He was filled with all manner of doubts himself. The main thoughts that exercised his mind were the ideas Marjorie had floated with regard to the manor house itself. Although she had not said in so many words, Felix knew that she was hoping that he would not only accept her gift of the house, but also that he and Daphne would leave London and come and live there permanently. He was glad that Daphne was asleep when he crept into bed beside her, he didn’t want to broach the subject until he had allowed it to simmer in his own mind. Lying beside her, he was aware of the warmth of her body, but as he pulled the covers over them, she muttered in her sleep and turned away. Better that way, he thought, than questions.

  Felix need not have worried. Daphne seemed entirely uninterested in how he’d spent his time in Wynsdown that weekend. She asked no questions, and for this he was grateful. After much consideration, he had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t keep the estate going without living there himself. Either he sold the whole estate, manor house, farms and land, or he had to move in to the
manor and take up the reins himself as his father had done; and for this he would have to resign his commission and leave the RAF. It was a big step. Staying in the air force would provide him with a regular salary, but not enough to fund the improvements necessary on the estate.

  He didn’t think Daphne would be very keen on the idea of moving to Somerset, but even so, he wasn’t quite prepared for her reaction when he finally broached the idea.

  ‘You want to what?’ she cried. She stared at him as if he were crazy. ‘You have to be joking! I’m not going to bury myself in the country. I’m a Londoner, not a country bumpkin.’

  ‘Not everyone who lives outside London is a bumpkin,’ Felix pointed out, in an effort to lighten the mood.

  ‘Everyone I’ve met down there is,’ snapped Daphne. ‘What on earth would I do all day? Make jam? Keep hens?’

  ‘You could do either,’ said Felix mildly.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Felix...’

  ‘Please don’t use that language, Daphne, it doesn’t become you.’

  ‘I’ll use what language I like,’ shouted Daphne, her anger rising and the East End returning to her voice. ‘You can’t tell me ’ow to speak. An’ I’ll tell you this, Wing Commander Felix Bloody Bellinger, I ain’t gonna live in Somerset, neither.’

  ‘Where are you going to live, then?’ asked Felix.

  Daphne stared at him, brought up short. ‘Well, here, of course.’

  ‘Afraid not,’ Felix said. ‘I’m giving notice and we’ll have to move out by the first of Jan.’

  ‘An’ you didn’t think to discuss this with me first?’

  ‘I’m discussing it with you now.’ He saw how angry she was and said, ‘I’m sorry, Daphne, I’m sorry. Perhaps I should have told you what I had in mind, but I didn’t want to worry you before I’d thought it through.’

  ‘Worry me? You didn’t want to worry me, so you’ve made this decision, what affects me as much as you... without even consulting me?’

  ‘Circumstances have made the decision for me,’ Felix said. ‘I’m truly sorry. I realise now that I should have spoken to you first—’